The Crimson Crier
by zethonring
Summary: Part-time superfreak Blue Devil finds himself fighting another foe, this one even stranger than his usual fare.


Tonight was different, she could tell. She'd been through this part of town one too many times for comfort and now, it seemed her luck might finally be up. She knew it had to happen some time or other, but why the devil did it have to be tonight!? Tonya heard the footsteps behind her a while back, it hadn't been the first time, more than a few nights she felt the wavering worry that someone might be following her. Those times she was wrong, but tonight she was sure of it. Her normal walk home was far too long and complex for anyone to be dragging so close without missing a beat. She wondered what she might do. Naturally she went for her phone, and on tonight of all nights it died a few hours early on her. Pressing frantically on the barrage of buttons, she had to keep from cursing aloud as it finally dawned on her; she was well and truly screwed.

It wasn't long before the man behind started to come closer, assuming he was a man. Tonya contemplated a brief sprint to the nearest store, but there was no one around, no one for miles it seemed. Not even the harmless hobo that sits on the corner by Avery street. _Why in blue blazes did it have to be tonight!?_

Not that there was any reason, but she didn't like being made a fool of. She'd been in a few fights in her time sure, against divas and trailer trash, but she hadn't near enough experience dealing with bird nosed pencil-dicked mouth breathers, and she'd be damned if tonight was the night she let it happened. _Yes_. She thought solemnly. _I'll just fight him. How big can he be?_ Tonya mused as her brisk pace turned to a jog. In no time at all the stalking bastard followed suit and started running toward her in full speed. It had been a while since she last threw hands, but now she was ready, she had to be. Turning around Tonya almost gasped at the fleeting sight before her; that of a short stocky man with a sagging face, man-tits and a red dollar-store blanket draped over his shoulder. As the mad man came upon her, she had to hold back the laughter as he positioned himself.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"Don't act like you don't know."

"I really don't honestly, have we met before?"

"You don't need to meet me to know my name. Everyone in city of angels fears the great Crimson Crier!" he said, circling as he fluttered his cape like a cartoon character.

"Crier? Like someone who cries a lot?"

"No you dim-witted bimbo, like a town crier."

"Oh... yeah, sorry I still don't see it."

"No one ever does until it's too late" he said, growling. An awkwardly long silence followed.

"Is... is this for real? Like are you really sticking me up?"

"Of course I am!" squealed the man as he removed a pistol from his jacket.

"So... you're like a supervillain?"

"I AM a supervillain!" he insisted, beating his weapon against the hard brick wall. Tonya looked back, less worried than ever. She might have reached for a cigarette had the loon not shouted again.

"Where is it!?"

"What?"

"Your money, give it here." he squealed as the two of them engaged in a tug of war. Like children at play time, a bizarre tussle started between the young lady and the ageing man who resembled an off-brand Penguin. In no time at all the struggle ended with the lady keeping a firm clasp on her leather-bound belongings.

"You leave me no choice" huffed the man as he stood back, throwing back his cape and raising a gun that looked slightly unique. Tonya was unsure initially, but the longer she stared into his manic eyes the more she remembered how anyone was capable of anything, especially in this town. She sighed at first, about to ask one final question.

"You're not really going to-" a hefty bullet blasted from his weapon, leaving a fist-sized hole in the wall beside her. The world went spinning as she felt her hearing fade to an endless ringing. Dropping her bag, Tonya cupped her ears as she fell back disoriented. She barely had time to comprehend as she witnessed him sift through her belongings and grab a stack of money, before taking the purse anyway.

"Just take it, and leave me the hell alone" she tried to say, but couldn't hear herself all that well. The man said something back, something resembling "Don't mind if I do!" as he scuttled off into the night. She lay there for what seemed like the shortest of moments when her senses started to come back to her. _What on earth have I done!? _She pondered. _I won't make it through the week without that cash. _A wave of worry rushed over her as she scrambled to collect the remainder of her belongings, stumbling to her knees, Tonya scooped up the last of her things and stuffed them into her handbag. She had to get her money back, some way or another, she just had to. All the time she walked she couldn't help but wonder how she'd get it done. All the while, until something she wasn't expecting happened. The man came back. But not how she'd expected.

"Can you repeat that?"

"I said half tomato, half barbecue."

"Hold on, let me have a look... yeah I don't think we do that one."

"Yes you do, it was on the menu the last time I bought from you guys."

"When was that?"

"'Bout 3 months ago."

"Uh huh. We've undergone new management since then."

"Your new management doesn't believe in half and half?"

"I dunno, buddy you'll have to take that up with him."

"Okay, well if that's not an option, how about a stuffed crust-"

"Yeah we don't do that either, new rules and all that."

"Just what the hell do you do?"

"Check our website, as a matter of fact it'd probably be easier, who the heck orders take-out by phone any more."

"This chump right here, apparently." I barked as I hung up and dashed my cell the other side of the car. Apologies for the change in gears but I gotta tell this side of the story my way. I'm Dan Cassidy, in case you were wondering, and I'm having one hell of a rough night. I mean most of them are garbage but tonight was really something special. The short of it is I failed another audition. In a little more detail; I lost a job, got locked out of my apartment again and damn near got locked in the slammer for the eleventh week in a row. If I didn't know any better I'd say the big man upstairs had some kind of grand plan for life to kick the ever living shit out of me until I throw in the towel. Right now I was on my way home after another long day on the grind and another long night on the prowl. It's not as tough as you'd think, this hero business, most days there's nothing to do, most of the nonsense goes down at night, at least on my end. In all fairness I don't think the daytime world would have me. I'll save that one for the guys in bright spandex. It's been a while since my last real rumble, I don't know whether crime has fallen or I just don't know where to look for it, all I know is it's making a comeback real soon. I can't say how exactly, but right now I've got this feeling. Stuff tends to happen around nights and days like this. Days when nothing seems to go right, nights when I can't even order a god damn pizza over the phone without bursting a blood vessel. More often than not this nonsense seems to happen when nothing's going right for me, as if every bad happening was secretly leading me to one moment and one person in particular. Whoever the hell they were, I'd probably deal with them tomorrow morning. At least I thought so until some moron started sprinting across the street. Three lousy seconds I spent staring at my phone, that was all it took. In no time whatsoever I looked up and saw the idiot prancing out into the street. I swerved to the side and crashed it straight into a lamp post. The shockwave might have damaged a lesser man, if there was one positive to all this, I was no lesser man, not any more. I sprung from the car without a scratch and went to look over the damage. It seemed fixable, at least well enough to get me home for tonight, but it would take a while. I looked around before I got to work and saw no sign of anyone, as if whoever or whatever I saw didn't really exist. Just another shameless curveball life keeps throwing at me as it laughs its ass off. I looked over the car one last time as I went to work when I finally heard it. Somewhere nearby, there seemed to be some sort of scuffle going on, and not the fun type either. Looking around I saw nothing but rows of houses and apartment complexes, with a few alleys tucked away in between them. It was a sure bet the madness was taking place in one of those hideaways. Truth be told the last thing I wanted was to venture any further, not that I was scared, just far too tired of being roped into other people problems. I thought it over a hot minute before turning my attention back to my car. I'd best make this quick. Grabbing some tools out the trunk, I raised the hood and took a good look at the damage. It was bad but nothing I couldn't handle. Getting to work I shifted the car from the edges of the lamp post as I started checking for particulars. I was hardly a few seconds in before I heard the gunshot. A groan louder than an helicopter escaped me as it hit me I no longer had a choice. Circling round to the back of the car, I prized open the door and reached for my failsafe. The Trident of Lucifer, or so they call it, in truth I couldn't give a rats ass who it belonged to and when, right now I just needed to stop another stick-up. Pulling the golden wonder out my car I slammed the door shut and headed down the rows of buildings. I passed a multitude of alleys with nothing in particular happening, stray cats, homeless bums, piles of garbage higher than a mountain. Then on the third turn I heard some ruckus. It sounded closer now, a lot more than before as I headed in. Jogging to the end it lead me to another fork. I wasn't sure which direction to look to at first. Luckily for me I didn't have to wait long to find out. Within second a silhouette emerged from a corner, a short and stout man with a face that looked like he'd gone five rounds with iron Mike. In his hand was clutched a purse that didn't exactly suit him. I might be a man of the world, but I know a crook when I see one. At the very least it wouldn't hurt to ask him.

"What's that you got there?" I sounded as he turned his attention to me. By some magic he hadn't even noticed me until I spoke, probably off his face on every relaxant known to man.

"Ah, my arch nemesis in the flesh."

"Excuse me?"

"I knew this day would come, every day I prepared for the moment the fabled Blue Devil would dare to face I, the Crimson Crier!" spoke the chubby weirdo as he fluttered his cape."

"You okay, man?"

"Never better." the man said, I was a split second too late to notice the gun he'd raised in my direction, before I knew a crack boomed in the air and a bullet was flying toward me. I raised my trident, but not in quite enough time, the bullet ricocheted and scratched the side of my face. A trickle of red ran down the velvet blue of my cheek.

"Okay, if you want to play it like that." I said, priming myself. I raised my trident and crouched as I stared for any and all incoming attacks.

"You'll learn this night, Devil. I don't play. I prosper." he said, cornily, I had to keep from groaning again as he let out a thunderous rain of bullets in my direction. Raising and twisting the trident, I deflected most of them, one after the other, but a few still scraped me. Luckily by now I'd built up somewhat of an immunity to outward damage. I could feel them, but they weren't doing too much damage.

"You done playing?" I asked as he stopped to reload.

"Oh, I've only just begun. I think you'll like this next round even better" he said as he drew something from his person. In the darkness I caught a glimpse of it. It seemed foreign but oddly familiar. A type of ammunition I'd seen before but couldn't place. I'd more or less given up on cracking the case when it hit me.

"That's a-" before I could even finish he'd already fired, a bullet the size of a fist flew toward me. I barely had a second to dodge it before it took a chunk out of my arm.

"A hellgun. Indeed." the ass hole muttered. One of the only weapons that could truly hurt a demon like me.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"Can't divulge that information I'm afraid."

"You'll be divulging something in a minute."

"Not unless I get you first." he laughed as he opened fire again. I leapt to the side, the blast just grazing my back, but it still hurt, far more than I was used to. I looked at my arm as I went tumbling over. It wasn't healing, just as I'd feared. How in the hell did I get myself in this mess. Of all the madmen in LA I stumble across this one. The one with the only means to do any real damage. Don't know if you know this, but a Hellgun's a pretty brutal weapon. Made by some lunatic in the upper echelons of hell, or some crafty Archangel as the legends go, it's the only type of weapon than can truly hurt a demon. Bullets pass straight through us like they do humans, and depending on the power they might do double the damage. Those at the top have ways of getting around them, some mid-tier demons are just good at resisting any and all types of damage, but guys like me at the bottom of the ladder don't stand a chance. Right now I was in more danger than I'd been in weeks, months even. All the while this two-bit hack job was getting closer.

"Don't tell me the great Blue Devil is afraid of little ole me!?" he said as he fired another shot. At times like this I couldn't think straight to save my life, literally. A thousand thoughts ran through me, a hundred ideas and about ten different theories on how this lunatics mind was operating. Between his half-assed quips and shoddy attempts to sound menacing I knew he wasn't half the "villain" he purported to be, just a shame none of that matters when the moron has a hold on one of the only weapons that can kill me. If there's one thing I'm certain of, I'm not going down again, not like this. If anyone was going to end me it'd be someone I could find on Wikipedia. Not some no-name from the local Looney bin. No. This couldn't be it. There had to be away. Taking a long look at the golden wonder grasped in my fist I came up with an idea, one I'd have to execute at the drop of a button. As a shower of gunfire grazed past me, I pressed the tip of the trident to the rock solid floor and drew on the powers within. Smaller flames were normally my speciality, I had a harder time controlling the big ones. Right now I'd either make something I could fight back with or throw myself in a whole new world of pain. Couldn't be worse than the throbbing in my arm and back. Couldn't come close. Giving my all as I channelled my will into the weapon, I barely had a second to blink as a flame the size of Opal city sent me flying backwards with a hail of debris. As I'd hoped the gunfire stopped almost immediately. The basket case in red was either too confused or too preoccupied swatting garbage out of his face to get a beat on me. Just the window I needed. Twirling the trident from one direction to the next, I sent another jet flame firing backwards, this one lunging me forward. In a haze of trash and ecstasy I went careering forward, landing steady on the ground. I stood a moment, waiting for the rain of garbage to settle as the Crier muddled about in confusion. I didn't mind waiting at first, then he started firing in every visible direction. God damn lunatic is going to kill someone like that. Couldn't let it happen on my watch. It was time for the finishing blow. Focusing my vision, I got the clearest sight I could of the silhouette, and through the flashes of gunfire I could make out the exact coordinates of his pistol. Raising the trident, I followed his movements, the erratic yelling and occasional glints of gunpowder. I tensed an arm, harder than I had in weeks as I stretched back. Waiting step by step, for the exact millisecond I needed. I lunged it the second I saw it coming. Like an arrow the trident zipped through the air, within another second I head the sound of a metallic clang, an annoyed grunt and I could just about make out the golden rod sticking out from a nearby wall as the man went flying into an adjacent wall. Seems I'd hit the mark. I went straight over to the flabby bastard now, on the floor cupping his hand, seemed I'd left a nasty gash, he was lucky he hadn't lost any fingers. Now he was disarmed he seemed oddly apologetic.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." He yelled as I kicked him to one side. Placing a firm foot on his torso, I exclaimed again.

"I'm gonna ask you this one last time, where'd you get the gun?"

"I dunno."

"You don't know? You don't know!?" I said, pressing harder.

"Okay, okay. Some shady guy sold it to me, said I should use it on you if we ever met."

"What'd this guy look like?"

"His face was covered, I couldn't see."

"Likely story."

"That's all I know, I swear." he squealed. I looked him dead in the eye, he may have been a cowardly piece of crap but even I could tell he was at his wits end. I loosened my foot a little. I had just one more thing to ask him.

"Um, excuse me?" a soft voice sounded beside me. I wheeled around to an awkward looking lady who seemed as though she'd looked into the abyss itself.

"Can I get my purse back?" I looked to the Crier, he smiled foolishly and shook his head.

"I have no idea who this is- OW! Okay!" he yelled as I pressed him again, he pulled a leather-bound purse from his person and chucked it in her direction.

"It better all be here." she huffed as she opened it and started counting.

"Or else, what?" he chided. At that I removed my foot, picked him up with one arm left him dangling in mid air.

"Or else I'll turn you upside down and shake it out of you."

"You don't have the balls." he said. By now I'd had enough of the asshole. Pulling an arm back I left hooked him hard but not too hard in the face and he was out cold. I threw him to the side a moment later and went to grab the trident.

"It all there ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you." she said as I nodded awkwardly and made to leave.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, again. Could I get a picture?" she asked. I stopped, looking back curiously, did I hear that right?

"A picture?"

"Yeah. Well, it's not really for me, my little sister's a big fan." she bluffed. At that I thought, and laughed it off.

"Didn't know I had fans."

"You do in my house- I mean my sisters house." she quipped. I headed over and got the picture. I decided to take the old Crier with me when I left, best to drop him off at the station instead of letting him carry on. Though all the while after, fixing my car, stopping at the station, driving home, I couldn't stop thinking about that picture. Crazy how as much as I'd convinced myself no one gave a crap about the Blue Devil, I always seemed to be in someone's good books. Maybe this night wasn't so bad after all. Just maybe.

At least I thought so, until a few yards from my place I caught sight of a store being robbed. This time there were four of them, all dressed like pilgrims and uttering nonsense I could barely make sense of.

"Worry not fair denizens of the ancient keep. Your funds will find their place in much more worthy hands, not in the pockets of the bourgeoisie but the treasuries of the great puritans of Burbank!"

As weapons were drawn, bullets started flying and things grew even wilder wilder it hit me that this night was far from over.

"Son of a bitch"


End file.
